


An Epilogue

by spongiform-encephalopathies (turketspy)



Category: The Binding - Bridget Collins
Genre: Don't copy to another site, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:37:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turketspy/pseuds/spongiform-encephalopathies
Summary: An epilogue. Emmett and Lucian find a home.





	An Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> I want it to be known that I read the book, loved the book, and was so utterly dissatisfied with the ending that I had to write a new one. That's all this puppy is. I texted my friend Becky and told her that I loved the book but had to write the ending to it now because it DOESN'T HAVE ONE. And she told me she'd read it, so. Here we are. Please excuse typos. I literally finished writing this, sent it to Becky, and decided spur of the moment to post it. Gotta love it.

Life on the marsh is easy for Emmett. He'd done it for months when the binding fever still had him, so it feels natural now that he's well. Every morning he rises early, lights the stove, puts on water for tea, and pads into the workshop to light the hearth there. After the hearth is lit and the tea is made, he settles into the workshop to practice to minutiae of his trade. Wrapping covers in leather and cloth, sewing pages together then gluing them into the covers. 

He doesn't take coin for his work before he gets his license. He binds blank notebooks and sketchbooks to sell in the market again. He puts together ledgers and diaries and takes custom orders for more intricate projects. It's good, honest work and he enjoys it. 

But he still has customers come in the middle of the night, alone, desperate, at the ends of their wits, begging for him to ease the pain. They hear from family, friends, neighbors, whisperers in alleys that the binder has returned to the marshes. And they come. The first time a girl had shown up ringing the bell in the middle of the night, it had woken them both up. Emmett had shaken his head, coaxed Lucian back down into bed, and went to the door by himself. Her tale was grisly, and when she'd finally left, Emmett curled into Lucian's side and wept. 

It isn't the last time.

Every time it happens, and as Emmett develops his skills it grows more and more frequent, Lucian holds him until the wrecking sobs subside.

They settled into their new life together neatly, naturally, as if this was how things were always meant to be. They decide to share Emmett's old room, turning Seredith's into a guest room, though no guests ever stayed. Lucian learns to help around the house, splitting wood when it's needed, helping to repair the roof, the stable, the storeroom. When winter turns to spring, they build a pen for pigs, clear a small paddock for their two horses and a few goats, and build a chicken coop. Emmett teaches him how to care for the animals, how to brush down the horses after a ride, how to muck out the pig pen, how to collect eggs with minimal stress to hens, how to milk the goats. 

He starts to look less like an aristocrat's son and more like an honest working man. He fills out with lean muscle, his shoulders broadening and jaw sharpening. Emmett doesn't realize it until he goes out to the storeroom one day to find Lucian shirtless chopping wood for the stove and promptly drags him into a bruising kiss.

When spring turns to summer, Emmett applies for his binding license. He easily easily fabricates the details of his third and final apprenticeship and no one at the licensing office bothers to verify. 

"I still don't understand," Lucian sighs. This again. 

"Lucian, we've been through this," Emmett groans. "You've seen them. The ones who come to be bound. And you've seen them in the marketplace, happier. You've been bound yourself. You remember that now." 

"No, not that," Lucian scoffs. "I understand that. What I don't understand is why you're so drawn to it. Why you can't just walk away from it."

And that was something Emmett himself didn't even understand. "You don't just choose it," Emmett tries to explain. "I was born a binder. I've been drawn to books my whole life, real ones. It's in my blood. And when I don't do it, when I try to leave it, the binder fever takes hold. I can't not do it. But I don't want to be a binder like de Hallivand or any of the others on Library Row. I'd never try to make money off it. But I feel like I'm helping people. And as long as I can, I want to."

Lucian seems to accept that answer. He nods, leaving the letter from the licensing office on Emmett's workbench. Emmett has been working on one book all day, it's a rather thick volume, with a black leather cover and silver gilding. On the front, he's carved a songbird into the leather and painted it with metallic paints in blue, red, and orange. He's just etching the name into the spine when Lucian snakes his arms around his waist and rests his head on Emmett's shoulder.

"Whose is this?" Lucian murmurs into his ear. 

"Peranon Cooper," Emmett sighs. 

"Isn't that the girl you were in love with?"

"I had a crush on her," Emmett snaps. "It was the idea of her. And that doesn't really matter now. She's died."

"So this is-"

"Her deathbed binding, yes. That's where I got called away to last night."

"What was it?"

"Pox," Emmett sighs. "I'd have thought she wouldn't have gotten it, with her father running a dairy farm, but I guess he kept healthy cows." 

"Or she never helped with them," Lucian offers, remembering the encounter they'd overheard between Peranon and his uncle. 

"Either way, I'll finish this up today. Her family doesn't want to see it, so it'll go into the vault."

"Is it difficult? Since you knew her?" Lucian whispers. 

"Well, it should be, shouldn't it?" Emmett responds after a while. "But I don't really feel anything at all. It seems like a lifetime ago when I knew her." 

Lucian hums, watching quietly as Emmett sews the final few pages together. He works nearly silently, as he always does when finishing a book. Lucian stays with him, chin on his shoulder, watching. It's morbid how fascinated he is with the process considering a girl's entire life lies in the pages before him, but he supposes it's because it's _Emmett_ doing the work. His strong hands, the hands Lucian loves, threading the needle through the paper and pressing the pages gently into the spine. It once would have disgusted him to watch, but Emmett pours his heart into every book he makes and that makes it beautiful. 

When Emmett finally rises to take the finished book down to the vault, he kisses Lucian softly before making his way to the triple-locked door. Lucian doesn't follow him. He never does. Emmett never strictly forbade him from going into the vault, but Lucian knows it isn't a place for him to follow. By the time he returns and locks the door, Lucian is in the kitchen heating up the leftover stew they'd made for supper the night before. This time it's Emmett's turn to wrap his arms around Lucian's waist and rest his chin on Lucian's shoulder. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Lucian asks, knowing the answer.

"I'm fine," Emmett insists. His voice is tired, and he's leaning heavily on Lucian. Binding always takes a toll. 

They eat quietly, not really needing to say anything more. And when they go to bed, if Emmett clings to him a little more tightly than usual, Lucian doesn't mention it.

**END**


End file.
